


The Recovery

by Mintstream



Series: My Makeshift Family [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, Father-Son Relationship, Hurt Peter, Hydra Peter Parker, Irondad, No Endgame, Parent Tony Stark, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, spiderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2020-03-20 01:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18982312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mintstream/pseuds/Mintstream
Summary: Tony was going to fix this, because that was what he did, he fixed things. The question was how he was going to fix Peter Parker. He loved his kid with all of his heart, but it was going to be hard to help his kid through...everything. Hydra, the death of his last family member, having have had an actual collar. One thing was for sure, it was going to be a long and slow recovery.AKA Tony is there for Peter after his kidnapping from Hydra.





	1. The Promise

The strong rush of air ruffled his hair as the Quinjet took off, slowly at first, but blasting away the moment it got high enough. As it began to take off Steve felt a twinge of regret. Should they have really let Peter go with Tony? Tony wasn't Peter's guardian, wasn't his parent. Would he even be able to take care of Peter properly? Taking care of a teenager was hard, much less one who was now dealing with superpowers and recovering from being kidnapped and experimented on.

As though she could sense his worries, Natasha rested her hand on his shoulder.

"They'll be alright, Steve," she reassured.

"What makes you so sure of that?" drawled Sam and it struck Steve that he also looked very unsure of Tony taking Peter, resentful even.

"Stark's no idiot, and you saw the way he and Peter interacted. They trust each other. Tony always makes sure those in his circle get the best of anything and everything,"

"Yes, because that's why we're on the run," Sam retorted, crossing his arms.

"Notice I said 'trust.' We're no longer trusted, Sam,"

Steve shook his head and rested his chin on his hand, rubbing it thoughtfully. Natasha did have a point. Tony's inner circle was always provided with the best means possible, which was something they couldn't do while on the run. Nor could any of them be the kind of familiarity that Tony obviously was to Peter. The kid was safer with Tony, not him, not the Rogues.

It was weird, he thought, getting attached to someone this quick. He guessed Peter just reminded him of Bucky. He sighed and turned to T'Challa, who had remained silent as they debated over Peter, leaving them to their conversation.

"We'll need to head back out soon, do some recon on the Hydra base now that Peter's been taken care of," he told the king of Wakanda.

"Please restock before you go. I assume you will not return for a while?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Natasha took over, "This was just for the kid, so it'll be awhile before we see you again. We need to lay low. I doubt that the base we invaded was the only one storing and conditioning mutants--or creating them,"

T'Challa nodded in recognition of her words then turned and headed back into his castle, telling them once again to take what they need leaving, the Dora Milaje following.

 "Are we really leaving a  _ child _ with Tony Stark?" Sam asked incredulously, still looking resentful that Tony had taken Peter. Steve sighed and Natasha blew out an annoyed breath through her nose.

"I don't like it much more than you do, Sam, but we can't help Peter, Tony can,"

"Wakanda could help,"

"He wouldn't want to stay here," Natasha butt in, her tone scornful, "Why is this such a big deal for you?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted, his shoulders sagging as he let out a stressed sigh, "It's just going to be hard for Peter to recover. I want to make sure he's safe I guess,"

"It's admirable, Sam," Steve said, "But Tony'll make sure he's okay. You know he will,"

Sam sighed again, but relented and headed back into the castle, Steve and Natasha following. After all, they needed to gather evidence from that Hydra base as soon as possible.

* * *

 

 

The steady sound of a warm breath that tickled his ear willed Peter into consciousness. It was warm and comfortable wherever he was, which...where  _ was _ he? The last Peter remembered was seeing Mr. Stark arrive in Wakanda. He knew something had probably happened afterwards, but he couldn't remember what had happened exactly, it was all kind of blurred. He did think he remembered something about being hugged, but all he could put together was the strong feeling of emptiness that seemed to sludge throughout his body.

That was when it all came flooding back, crashing over him like a dam had broken, leaving him feeling overwhelmed yet somehow empty at the same time. May...she was gone. He would never see her again, never taste her terrible cooking, never get another one of her bear hugs. His body suddenly felt worn to the bone in exhaustion and he had to force himself to even try and open his eyes.

He rubbed at his eyes blearily after finding that they were glued shut and crusty from what felt like dried tears. He had become accustomed to the feeling over the past couple of weeks after he would have a bad nightmare or would simply just fall asleep crying. When he moved his arms to his face though, they knocked against something warm and solid, making him freeze immediately. Peter finally opened his eyes and found himself tucked up against someone, their chest, he guessed, since his face was more or less pressed against them to the point where couldn't see much of where he was.

Upon further investigation, which was really just him coming to his senses, he realized that he was being hugged up against their chest by strong arms with his head tucked under their chin, and, if the overpowering yet familiar smell of coffee and car grease was anything to go by, that said person was Mr. Stark. His face heated up in embarrassment at the realization that he was nestled up against Mr. Stark, yet at the same time, he was content to stay there snuggled up to his mentor. He had missed him. Missed working with him in the lab, his jabs and jokes about his age, the constant mother henning over the slightest thing which had before been bothersome now just reminded how much the man cared.

He let out a small sigh, fighting against his embarrassment and instead giving into his need for closeness, snuggling deeper into the man's chest. He froze, however, when he felt Mr. Stark shift and let out a low groan.  _ Stupid Parker! You woke him up! _ he scolded himself silently, once again feeling that strange tingle he had come to associate with him turning invisible as he tensed. He couldn't look at his hands to actually confirm he had become invisible, but he was sure that Mr. Stark, or anyone really, could no longer see him.

"Peter?" came his mentor's voice, groggy with sleep yet soft and gentle, "It's okay, kiddo. No need to disappear, you're safe," he soothed as the arms around Peter tightened ever so slightly.

So he  _ had _ turned invisible.

"I-I'm sorry," he mumbled in response, trying to concentrate on reappearing. Tingling sensations ran up and down his arms, but it felt more like he was coming in and out of focus rather than actually reappearing, "I d-don't know how t-to control it,"

"It's alright, bud. There's no need to apologize, okay?" he encouraged, beginning to card a gentle hand through his hair. Peter flinched involuntarily at the contact, but leaned into the touch nonetheless, letting out a little hum in response. Another tingle passed over him again as he felt himself relax against Mr. Stark.

"There you are, Underoos," Mr. Stark said, still playing with his hair.

They stayed like that for a couple minutes as Peter worked up the courage to ask Mr. Stark what was happening and how they had ended up where they were, wherever that was. He wasn't supposed to ask questions, or start conversations. Ivanov had always made sure that he knew the rules, and he shuddered thinking about the punishment for acting out, even on accident. In the end he forced himself to push past his fear, reasoning that Mr. Stark wouldn't hurt him, but still flinching as he opened his mouth to ask.

"M-Mr. Stark?"

"Yeah kiddo?"

"W-Where are w-we?"

"My bedroom at the Compound,"

"Y-y-your bedroom?" Peter choked out, flushing in embarrassment.

"Yeah," Mr. Stark confirmed, seemingly blind to his embarrassment, "I checked you into the MedBay first, but Helen said you were already mostly healed. She prescribed lots of rest, food, and fluids,"

"O-okay," he stammered, still shell shocked that he was in  _ Tony Stark's bedroom _ .

"Speaking of which, you should probably eat something. Do you wanna go get something with me?"

"O-okay," he squeaked again, feeling like a broken record. Mr. Stark shifted again, slowly removing his arms from where they had been wrapped around Peter, and moving to sit up. He hesitantly mimicked his actions, wincing as he realized just how sore he was, but at least he could see his surroundings now.

Mr. Stark's room was best described as organized chaos. There were articles of clothing haphazardly draped over furniture, a few littered the ground as well. There were couches and comfortable looking chairs, all seeming relatively new and unused, which he supposed made sense since the Compound hadn't been in use for that long and Mr. Stark traveled a lot. The room itself was huge, bigger than any bedroom Peter had ever seen, which accommodated for the king sized bed that he was currently sitting on.

The mattress dipped as Mr. Stark moved out of the bed, causing Peter to turn his attention from the room to his mentor at the shift. They made eye contact for a fleeting second, but Peter immediately cowed and hung his head. He wasn't allowed to make eye contact, that was rule number two. The logical part of him knew that his mentor wouldn't punish him for it, he doubted that Mr. Stark even knew the rules, but he couldn't help how he still shivered in fear.

"C'mon, kiddo, let's head to the kitchen, yeah?" Mr. Stark prompted gently.

Peter nodded quickly, untangling himself from where he still sat under the dark gray covers to get out of the bed. Mr. Stark quickly put an arm over Peter's shoulders, as though making up for lost time. He flinched again, and didn't look up at Mr. Stark's face still, but he leaned into his mentor's side, trying to quell his shaking.

"I'm sorry," Peter apologized, though he wasn't entirely sure for what. It just felt easier to say than anything else.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Peter. You're all good," he assured, hesitating before stopping to press his nose into Peter's hair and place a gentle kiss, rubbing circles in his shoulder soothingly. The brunet closed his eyes and leaned wholeheartedly into the touch.

* * *

 

_ Ding! _

The toaster went off, two pieces of bread popping out to show that they were only slightly burned, which was better than Tony could've hoped for with his absolutely abysmal cooking skills. He quickly grabbed the slices and dropped them on a plate, wincing as they burned his fingers.

"You want jam, Pete?" he asked the boy who was sitting at the kitchen counter on a stool.

"S-sure," came the boy's timid response from behind him.

"What flavor, kiddo?"

"Oh, um i-it doesn't matter,"

Tony suppressed a sigh, just grabbing the strawberry jam from the bridge and getting a butter knife from the drawer to start fixing the kid's breakfast. He knew Peter wouldn't be able to just bounce back to his old self after all that had happened, he knew that! But, it was just hard to see him so afraid, flinching at every little movement and touch, turning invisible whenever he felt threatened. That part was admittedly more strange, but Tony had seen stranger. It would probably be harder for Peter to get used to than anyone else.

He placed the plate in front of Peter who mumbled a quick thank you, though he didn't start eating right away, just stared at it for a few moments before hesitantly reaching out to grab a piece. Satisfied that he was finally eating something, Tony turned back into the kitchen to make himself a quick cup of coffee. While waiting for it to heat he poured some orange juice(Peter's favorite) for the kid since Helen had said he would need lots of fluids.

"How you doin', kid?" he asked when he sat next to Peter with his coffee, giving Peter the orange juice. He tried to keep his tone lighthearted but there was a noticeable strain to it.

Peter looked over at him, but kept his eyes trained on his chest, as though he were afraid to actually look at him, which he probably was. To be honest, Tony didn't know if there was anything Peter wouldn't be afraid of anymore. What made it more worrying, though, was the kid's reaction when they had made eye contact earlier. It had been brief, not even lasting a second before Peter had ripped his eyes away to stare at his hands, but he had seen the fear. Had seen the shaking afterwards, felt it when he slung an arm over the kid.

"I-I'm fine," his kid responded, turning back to his plate. Yeah, that wasn't going to do. The kid had barely spoken more than two words at a time and he was so far from fine it was ridiculous.

"You sure? You've been shaking like a leaf, kiddo,"

Peter hesitated, tugging at the hem of his shirt, which Tony had learned was one of the kid's tell tale signs of anxiety. He suppressed a sigh, looking over Peter worriedly, concern tugging at his heart. Hesitantly, he ran a hand through the teen's curls, expecting it when he flinched away but still having to fight down bile. His kid was so hurt, so damaged, so different from the kid he had once known, the one he was determined to bring back.

 

This was his fault, and Tony knew it. If he had checked up on Peter more often, installed better security in his apartment, found him quicker-anything!-none of this would have happened. Peter would be happy, still filled with hope, with his aunt. May would still be alive had he not been so careless. But this wasn't about him, not now, it was about the child who was currently crying in front of him.

 

"It's going to be okay, Peter," he assured, his voice soft and gentle, still running his hand through the kid's soft curls, "I know it hasn't been, I know it isn't at the moment, but it will be-someday,"

 

Peter rubbed at his eyes furiously, trying to stem the flow of tears. They kept on coming though, silently pouring down his cheeks and flushing them red.

 

"It will?"

 

And,  _ God _ , he sounded so small, so tired, so broken. Tony wasn't surprised to find his own eyes filling with tears at the sheer force of love and regret he felt when he heard Peter.

 

"It will, kiddo," he swallowed thickly, trying to force down the growing lump in his throat, "I don't know when, but I'll be here with you-every step of the way. I've got you kid. I'm going to protect you, _ I promise _ ,"

 

Peter leaned a bit more into his hand, sniffling, and hesitantly raised his own hand to hold on to Tony's. He smiled at his kid, gently pulling him into a hug.


	2. The Laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter had been having trouble sleeping ever since he'd been rescued from Hydra a couple of weeks ago, so naturally Tony had as well. The kid fell asleep late--if he managed to fall asleep at all-- and would wake up in the early hours of the morning from nightmares that would leave him screaming and crying, sobbing into Tony's chest. Sometimes he would just crash in his arms, those were the best nights they could manage, because it meant that the small teen actually got some sleep. The worst was when they just sat there for hours, his kid refusing to tell him what his nightmares were about, he had yet to even tell Tony anything that had happened during his time with Hydra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know it's been a while. But! I have an excuse!!!
> 
>  
> 
> I am VERY lazy. Anyway, this is mostly just a filler chapter. It was going to be longer but I ended up cutting it short so that the story can be stretched a bit. Also, if I didn't end up cutting it, it would've ended up being like, an 8,000 word chapter. WhiCH WOULD BE RIDICULOUS. The last chapter was literally on 2,500 words. So, here ya go, have fun with my piece of shit writing.

The haze of a single artificial light cast a harsh glow across the otherwise dark room, coming from the overly priced kitchen that looked out over a spacious room. The clock on the oven read 2:37. It was safe to assume it was early in the morning, if the dark starry sky outside was anything to go by. At the kitchen bar sat a man was stooped wearily over on a stool who, despite the late hour, was nursing a cup of black coffee in a dark red mug that read 'World's Best Superhero' in gold letters.

It had been a gift from Peter, who was, fingers crossed, sleeping in his room down the hall. He had been having trouble sleeping ever since he'd been rescued from Hydra a couple of weeks ago, so naturally Tony had as well. The kid fell asleep late--if he managed to fall asleep at all-- and would wake up in the early hours of the morning from nightmares that would leave him screaming and crying, sobbing into Tony's chest. Sometimes he would just crash in his arms, those were the best nights they could manage, because it meant that the small teen actually got some sleep. The worst was when they just sat there for hours, his kid refusing to tell him what his nightmares were about, he had yet to even tell Tony anything that had happened during his time with Hydra. Eventually Peter would leave to take a shower and would try to act as normal as possible, though he usually failed in doing so.

That had been the general routine, which had increased in its intensity after attending May's funeral a week ago, which may have been the worst day of his life, and he had a lot of those. It had been a small affair, with a few of May's coworkers and neighbors, him, Happy, Pepper, Peter, and Rhodey being the only attendants. The small number of people had been the only saving grace. Less of a crowd to overwhelm Peter, as well as to try and give him their condolences, but other than that it had been absolutely horrid. As much as he was obviously trying to keep it in, Peter had silently cried during most of the service, and he was clearly uncomfortable with being around people other than him. He had realized with a jolt that it was the most people the grieving teen had been around in a week, even though there was only around a dozen people.

After the funeral Peter had headed straight for his room and hadn't left until around midday the next day, which had been stretching Tony's limits of Peter not eating _very_ thin, not that he hadn't already tried to get the kid to at least have a snack. By the time he had come out of his room the man was exactly ten seconds away from barging into Peter's room to make him eat a sandwich.

The billionaire continued to muse over his memories of the past week as he waited for the inevitable, sipping his coffee whaleingly. All of twenty minutes passed before the gentle voice of his AI interrupted him from his thoughts.

"Boss, Peter is having a nightmare," Friday informed, her voice soft, yet ringing throughout the room. He set his cup down briskly and began power walking towards his kid's room.

"Thanks sweetheart," he responded, approaching the door, "Lights at 15% in Peter's room,"

He opened the door quietly, not bothering to knock. If given the choice, Peter would have it so Tony never even knew he had nightmares, convinced he was bothering the man. So, he had resigned himself to not giving Peter privacy when it came to his nightly horrors. His kid wasn't going to go through this alone, he was making sure of it.

The dim lighting of the room allowed him to make out Peter's silhouette, which was twitching restlessly, his limbs splayed out across his bed. He was whimpering and muttering words too soft to make out, the only indication he was actually speaking was the movement of his lips. The man quickly walked towards the bed and sat next to his kid, nudging the distressed boy awake.

"Peter," he spoke gently yet urgently, rubbing the kid's shoulder, "It's okay, I'm here. You need to wake up bud, okay? It's just a nightmare,"

After a bit more prodding and soothing words, Peter finally woke up, his eyes snapping open. He shot up and drew his arms towards his face in a defensive position, clearly ready to fight despite still being half covered by blankets. Tony caught his arms before either of them could get hurt, he didn't doubt Peter might actually hurt himself in his panic. He had already made that mistake, and he wasn't going to repeat it.

"Hey! Guess who? It's just me, buddy, it's just me,"

The teen’s breath caught and he immediately stilled, taking a moment to collect himself as he stared at Tony's chest, his eyes welling with tears, his breaths small and shaky as he tried to control his breathing. It was a losing battle, after a couple of deep breaths he dissolved into tears, hiccuping and gasping for air.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark! I'm sorry!" he cried, his voice high as he spoke through his sobs. Tony sighed, enveloping Peter in a tight hug as he continued to mumble apologies.

"Shhh, it's okay," he shushed, "No need to be sorry,"

"Bu-but I keep wak-waking you!"

"And I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm here for you, whether you like it or not, buddy,"

Peter let out another loud sob, it seemingly ripping through his body as he shook violently, shivering all over. The incessant shivering, paired with the boy's strength, actually made it hard to hug him. Tony felt like he was being turned into a maraca as he tried to calm his kid down.

"It's okay," he consoled, desperate to try and ease Peter's fears, "Remember our breathing exercises, kid?" A nod, "Good, that's good. We're going to do those now, okay?"

Peter nodded in confirmation and Tony began to take deep and exaggerated breaths, holding the kid in his arms as he began to calm down. It didn't take long, but he never seemed to stop stringing together countless apologies. The man continued to try and shush him, rubbing soothing circles into his impossibly soft hair, which was naturally curly from the lack of product.

With his kid's head tucked under his chin, and his face pressed into the crook of his neck--as though it were the most natural thing in the world--Tony felt guilty. Guilty for having this kid when he shouldn't. May should, she should be alive to be there for Peter, to be his family, which Tony wasn't. As much as he liked to pretend he was, he knew he wasn't Peter's dad(how he wished he was, however selfish it may be), he didn't deserve someone as good as Peter. But the fact was that he was all the kid had left, and despite being the worst person to help Peter, he was the only one who could--who would.

Pepper was there too, of course. She helped, both him and Peter--she was a Godsend, one of the best things that had ever happened to him--and she reassured him that he was doing great as the kid's legal guardian(as a father figure, really), and despite her many points, he didn't completely believe her. He denied Peter the one thing he wanted to do; being Spider-Man, he couldn't get him to go to therapy excusing it to not wanting to share his experiences with some stranger. But he didn't share any of it with Tony either, refused every time he tried to get the kid to let him in. And it hurt, not being completely trusted, and he burned with anger and shame at himself for being upset at Peter for not being willing to share such a traumatic experience.

God he was such an asshole. Whatever, he'd have to push it aside for now, after all, Peter needed him.

"How you doing, kid?" he asked softly, trying to make his voice sound casual. Peter shrugged clumsily in response, his face still pressed into the crook of Tony's neck, "Yeah, that's how I usually feel after nightmares too,"

Peter hummed in response, turning a bit so he was leaning on his side against Tony, his cheek resting against the man's neck instead of his entire face. The billionaire continued carding his hand through the kid's hair, hoping that it was calming Peter down as much as it did for him.

They sat like that for a couple minutes, just him and his kid leaning on him heavily, still trying to catch his breath.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter asked hesitantly, his voice tiny.

"Yeah, Pete?" he responded nonchalantly, still mussing with the kid's hair.

"I-I still want to b-be Spider-Man again,"

Tony sighed internally. They had had this conversation twice already, Peter wanting to go back out and defend his old home of Queens while Tony tried to convince him otherwise. He couldn't go out and fight 'bad guys’, at least, not at the moment. He wasn't ready, no matter how much he said was.

"We've talked about this, Pete," he started, but Peter quickly interrupted, which was a surprise. He had been having trouble speaking up at all, interrupting was new, and while not his favorite, definitely showed progress. Small victories he guessed.

"I know, I know. Bu-but I can handle it! My powers are fine, I even-even have an...extra one. It's good for hiding, so I'd be safe! And all your pr-protocols would make sure I wasn't hurt. And I just feel so useless sitting here. People depend on Spider-Man, and I haven't gone out in over a month and it feels as though I'm letting people down. People shouldn't get hurt because of me! And besides, I'm fine, Mr. Stark, really! I-I'm okay. _I'm okay_ ,"

He quieted at the end of his outburst, as if he didn't actually believe himself, or had realized that Tony was just going to let him continue rambling on forever. Tony just felt like he couldn't interrupt, it felt wrong to keep the kid from at least speaking his mind, letting his guardian know how he really felt. He still wasn’t going to let the kid go out fighting people for a _long_ time.

It took him a moment to realize he had stopped messing with Peter's hair, and he quickly resumed his earlier pattern, not wanting the kid to think he was mad or disappointed because he had dared to say what was on his mind.

"Kid," he started, swallowing thickly, "You _know_ that you can't patrol at the moment. And I know you know _why_ , too. You're too smart not to, you're just a bit more reckless than you are a genius," he waited to hear how Peter would react to that, but he remained silent, just pressing himself closer to Tony in response, "You need to rest buddy-"

"--It feels like all I've been doing is resting!"

Tony stared in shock, having not expected even more interrupting, but quickly schooled his expression and carried on.

"I know it does, kiddo. I know it does. And I know it's frustrating too. But you're still not completely recovered, and we've barely even touched on what you're ready for mentally,"

"M-my head's fine,"

"See, it's easy to think that, and I know you're not crazy, but you do need help. You went through a lot of trauma, Pete, nobody expects you to recover so soon, especially if you refuse treatment,"

"I don't n-need a therapist!"

"I never said you did,"

Peter humphed, but still didn't pull away from him. He sighed inwardly, not wanting to openly express frustration in front of Peter. He didn't know how the kid might react, for all he knew about the kid’s guilt complex, it could bring them back to square one of 'you're not bothering me.' Not that a lot of progress had been made. He still had to tell the kid that a lot.

"Peter, I know it's hard, but let's set a couple things straight. You're recovering, physically and mentally, no matter how much you try and deny it, I know what it's like to be kidnapped and tortured. It's a long road, and it takes a lot of time--and a lot of help--to move on from. As for New York, they'll survive,"

"But--"

"No kid, this is important. Are your contributions to the city noticeable and appreciated? Yes, but it isn't the end of the world if you skip a few months. I know it doesn't seem that way--God you're too selfless for your own good--but, they'll be okay. And buddy, when you return, you'll be _ready_ to help,"

"I'm ready now," Peter protested weakly.

"No kiddo, not now. Maybe in a month or two, but that's the quickest recovery rate, and by judging at how fast things are moving now, it's going to take longer, bud,"

"What--why is it going to take longer?"

"Kid, you're not accepting any treatment. No therapy, no medication, no _nothing!_ Because you won't tell anyone what happened, and we really need to know kiddo. _You_ need us--me--to know, no matter how reluctant you are to tell. Peter, you need support--proper support--and I can't give you that unless you let me,"

He hated this, hated tricking the kid into telling him about what had happened, but he needed to know. He needed to know how to help Peter, needed to understand what to do. That was only possible if he knew exactly what had happened. And, unfortunately, it seemed the only way to get that information, was the prospect of being Spider-Man as soon as possible. Still, he had kept his voice soft and gentle, not pushing Peter, just trying to...steer him.

He could tell that the boy tucked against him was considering it, that he was weighing his options in his head. Tony held his breath, waiting for him to respond. Peter hesitated before he spoke, his internal debate clear.

"Ca-can we hav-have some hot chocolate?"

This time Tony couldn't hold in his sigh. Hot chocolate always made Peter fall asleep. The kid was ensuring himself another night to avoid the topic. Not only that, but his stutter was worse than it was earlier. Great, he had made the kid anxious. Some guardian he was turning out to be.

"Sure, kiddo. Do you want to have it in the living room?"

"O-okay,"

For now, he would just have to wait for Peter to come to him, however long that took.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The cup he held warmed is hands, the gentle smell of chocolate that wafting around the room mixing with the overpowering smell coffee comforting the small teenager on the couch. The lights were low and dimmed as Mr. Stark draped a soft blanket--his favorite one with little Iron Man's in various poses--around him before coming to sit next to him on the overly large gray couch. He brought the strong smell of coffee with him, which Peter took as a sign that the man hadn't slept in a while, which he knew was because of him. No matter how much his mentor denied the fact, Peter knew he had been keeping him up with his incessant nightmares.

A pit settled itself deeper into his stomach as he thought about it. He shouldn't keep Mr. Stark up, or find comfort in the man when he came to rescue him from his nightmares. He’d been having nightmares for years now, he should be able to handle them, without disturbing Mr. Stark. Tonight had worse than usual, not because the nightmares had been worse, they were the same as they had always been--screams, his, he thinks, Filip Ivanov taunting him, Aunt May always being right in front of him yet still too far away to reach, not that she reached out for him--no, it was because he had argued with Mr. Stark. He shouldn't have done that!

The boy repressed a shudder as Ivanov's enraged voice echoed in his ear, screaming names at him, letting him know he deserved what was happening to him, that if he were _human_ , none of it would be happening. The disgustingly familiar voice ranted on for what felt like hours as the world around him disappeared, transforming into his crude little cell. The usual guard watched over him as Ivanov drilled the rules into him: Follow orders without question, No eye contact, No backtalk, No disrespect to _regular_ people. He was a mutant, inhuman, and therefore an object. Not a person, certainly not a child, but a test subject, a _pet_.

"You okay, Petey?"

And like someone had flipped a switch, everything disappeared and he was back in Mr. Stark's living room, sitting on a couch drinking hot chocolate, his mentor next to him worrying about his well being.

"Uh, yeah-yeah, I'm good. Just...tired, I guess," he excused, hoping that he sounded convincing.

He was safe, safe in the Avengers Compound. Why couldn't his brain understand that? Why was he being so ridiculous? Why couldn't he just get over it? It was over! He should be fine, he shouldn't have to bother Mr. Stark by needing help, or by burdening him with what had happened at the Hydra base. He didn't need to do that, didn't _deserve_ to do that to Mr. Stark.

"Peter?" his mentor asked, once again cutting him off from his painful thoughts. Damn his traumatized brain.

"Wha-yeah, Mr. Stark?"

"You _sure_ you're okay?"

He nodded meekly in response, tilting his head in confusion. What had he done to make his mentor so concerned?

"Sorry, you just weren't answering me kiddo. What, did you just doze off with your eyes open?" Mr. Stark joked, his voice light.

"I was just thinking. Spaced out I guess," he shrugged, smiling just the tiniest bit at the man's gentle teasing.

"About what?"

"Hm?"

"What were you thinkin' about, Pete?"

The boy blinked owlishly, thinking over his response. He wanted to tell Mr. Stark, he wanted to tell him _so badly_ , about _everything_. About the beatings, the torture, the experimentations, the fights, how he had been broken down and had yet to build himself back up again. About how much he missed his Aunt, how he usually cried himself to sleep, and that the reason he got up so late wasn't just that he went to sleep late, but that he could barely find the motivation to get out of bed in the morning. About how he felt so alone whenever he went to bed, that he just wanted to stay in Mr. Stark's room like he had on the first day. He wanted to spill everything, the shame, the fear, the loneliness, the grief, but he just...couldn't. So he didn't.

"Things," he answered after a heavy pause, it was the best he could come up with, but he knew that Mr. Stark probably wouldn't believe him. And judging by the look on the man's face he peaked from the corner of his eye, he definitely didn't.

"Things, huh?" he humored anyway, "Real philosophical I bet. Lots of Star Wars theories to think about,"

Peter giggled a little into his hot chocolate. It was soft and hesitant, but still there, and he realized it was probably the first time he had laughed since he had gotten back. Over a stupid Star Wars joke. He blamed it on the fact that it was three in the morning. Damn his loopy 3AM brain.

His giggle didn't go unnoticed by Mr. Stark, who was grinning like a mad man, eyes shining with excitement and something else that he couldn’t quite place at the moment. Mr. Stark looked as happy as he'd been when he'd first seen Peter after he came off of the Quinjet, like he couldn't quite believe his eyes. It made Peter's smile minisculely wider, but he hid it in his hot chocolate and took a sip of the warm drink, unsure of how to react.

"Friday, why don't you go ahead and play Star Wars," Mr. Stark said, trying to hide his ear splitting grin, but ultimately failing and just giving in, resting his head on Peter's and putting an arm around his shoulders. He froze for a moment(better than flinching, which he was still trying to stop doing, with little success) before leaning into the gentle embrace.

"Which one, boss?"

"I don't know. What do you think, Pete, Ultimate Star Wars Fan?"

"Th-the Empire Strikes Back," he answered instantly. Friday queued up the movie and it began playing on the TV larger than a bed in front of them.

They both fell asleep barely twenty minutes into the movie.


	3. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter could list the smells in his head; Rose perfume, the lingering smell of the city, the never-ending aroma of burnt food from her many failed cooking experiments. He remembered those, but he just couldn't remember them all together, he just couldn't remember the smell of May. It took the teen a moment to realize that his eyes were watering. Refusing to let Mr. Stark see--the man would never go if Peter started crying--he buried himself deeper into the crook of the man's neck, blinking away the tears.
> 
> "It'll be alright, Pete. I'll be here faster than you can say 'Star Wars is the coolest thing in existence' if anything goes wrong," Mr. Stark said softly, patting him on the back before unwrapping himself from the embrace. Peter smiled weakly at the jab at his love for Star Wars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.
> 
> I'm an awful person and I'm so sorry this took so long. School's mostly at fault, plus I've been doing this weird thing called "hanging out???" It's kinda weird tbh. Anyway, this is trash, but it's MY trash and I had fun writing it, I hope you have fun reading it.

"No, Pepper! I'm not going to D.C., Peter needs me here!"

"I know he does, Tony. But if you _don't_ go the entire thing could be brought to an end and all your work would go down the drain!"

"But why do _I_ have to go!?"

"Tony, the meeting requires all of the current Avengers. Vision and Rhodey are already on their way, and you need to go too!"

The argument continued on, back and forth between the two, each getting more and more worked up as they continued. It wasn't super unusual for Mr. Stark to seem uncomposed in an argument, but Pepper was almost always composed, like, _freakishly_ composed. Not to say she wasn't composed at the moment, but she was definitely getting impatient with Mr. Stark.

Usually, Peter would put his money on Ms. Potts winning the argument--she was a pro at convincing the billionaire to go to things and do things he didn't want to do--but the man seemed very determined not to lose this particular battle. Peter still felt as though Ms. Potts had a chance of winning though, after all, the UN meeting was apparently _very_ important. Like, future of the Avengers important.

Mr. Stark had been working on getting pardons for the Rogue Avengers, less out of kindness or friendship and more out of the need for a team to protect the Earth from future dangers, from the _current_ dangers. So his mentor had been negotiating with the UN, revising the Accords so that the Rogues might actually sign them, working towards them no longer being criminals, because he knew that the world needed protection. Recently though, he hadn't been doing that. Peter guessed that it had probably been a month since he had attended any of the meetings or resumed his work at all, he had been so busy looking for--and then taking care of--him. Now though, work seemed unavoidable.

"No! No, no, no, no!" came Mr. Stark's voice, loud and running over Pepper's insistent cries.

"Tony you sound like a child! This is important!"

"Not listening!! LalalaLALAla!!" he sang, covering his ears and winking at Peter in a playful manner as the boy sat on a stool at the kitchen counter, observing the whole thing quietly. He was surprised that Happy hadn't said anything though. The Head of Security had been standing just a few feet away from the arguing couple the entire time, a word barely leaving his lips, though his face remained one of pure annoyance and exasperation.

"Tony we're going to be late! We have to go, or they may never get pardoned," Pepper said urgently, gently prying Mr. Stark's hands from over his face. It seemed that his anger was more directed at the idea of leaving Peter than at Pepper, because he let her take his hands, his expression softening as he looked at her.

"I can't just leave him here, Pep," he said, his voice soft and tired, "We'll be gone for almost a full twenty-four hours, I can't be gone that long. He needs me," he turned to Peter with a teasing smile, "Don't you kid?"

Peter just stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. He didn't want Mr. Stark to go--he selfishly and desperately wanted him to stay--even if it would only be for a day, but he also knew that Mr. Stark was needed elsewhere, that the meeting he was going to was important, and that if he ever wanted to go out as Spider-Man and prove himself again--if he ever wanted to stop feeling so fucking _useless_ \--Mr. Stark couldn't be around. Still, he didn't like the idea of him leaving, like, _at all_ \--and he knew that if he told the man to stay that he would. Wouldn't hear anything from anyone else. Peter didn't want to sound ungrateful by telling Mr. Stark to go, but he knew that he needed to and that a small part of him wanted to.

"I-I think you should go, Mr-Mr. Stark," he stuttered, hoping he sounded convincing. Mr. Stark's face fell just the tiniest bit, but he quickly replaced his confused expression with one of impassiveness. Peter still saw it though, "N-not that I d-don't want you here! I do! It's just that this is important, and it affects the future of the Avengers, and the world's safety if anything else big attacks. And I really think you should--"

"Hey, hey," Mr. Stark cooed, cutting across him, "You don't have to freak out, you're probably right anyway," he gave the boy a sideways glance, his expression so full of fond exasperation that it caught Peter off guard.

"So you're coming, Tony?" Pepper spoke up, diverting Mr. Stark's attention to her.

"I can't just leave him here _alone!"_

"I could stay,"

Everyone turned to look at Happy, who had finally spoken, in surprise.

Happy? Stay with him for almost twenty-four hours? There was no way the man himself had actually volunteered for that. Sure, Peter had been through a lot in the past month, but this seemed excessive for the bodyguard.

"What?" Happy asked, breaking the rather awkward silence, "I won't be able to come with you to the meeting, but I think you'd survive without me,"

"Happy that would be amazing!" Pepper exclaimed, "He won't be left alone and unguarded, Tony. Now go change,"

"But I--" Tony began, looking confused and aghast.

" _Now,_ Tony," Pepper and Happy sad together, as if practiced. To be honest, it might've been. Peter had no doubt they had had to force Tony to attend important meetings several times before.

"Fine," he pouted, stalking off, "But I still have to brief you, Hogan!"

"Brief me?"

Unfortunately, there was no answer. Mr. Stark had already disappeared. That or he was just choosing not to answer. Once he was gone, Pepper turned to him, her face friendly.

"Are you okay with this, Peter? I know this must be a lot, and I'd understand if it wasn't," she said gently.

"N-no, it's a-all good, Ms. Potts. I-I'll be okay w-with Happy,"

And he would be. He would be perfectly fine, yet a nagging voice in the back of his head felt differently. Mr. Stark meant safe, and with Mr. Stark gone, his safety was gone as well. Peter knew he was being ridiculous,after all, he was Spider-Man! Besides, Mr. Stark had more important things to attend to than some kid, but he just couldn't completely quell his nerves.

"If you're sure," she reaffirmed, her voice hanging on the edge of uncertainty. Her usual aura of efficiency returning, she began typing on her StarkPad while striking up a conversation with Happy, "We're already going to be late, but I can only imagine how much later we're going to be after Tony 'debriefs' you,"

"Yeah, uh, what the hell does that mean?" Happy asked, his eyebrows raised in exasperation.

"Knowing Tony it could range from how many updates you need to give him while we're gone to Peter's favorite pillow,"

Happy barely managed to stifle his groan, but seemed oddly less exasperated with Mr. Stark's antics than usual.

Said man emerged from the hallway leading to their rooms less than a minute later, his tie still loose around his neck and pinning his cuffs as he marched towards them. He ignored Happy and Pepper in favor of standing in front of him and gently caressing the side of Peter's face, running the tips of his fingers through his curly hair.

"Okay, Petey, I'll only be gone for a day, alright?" Peter responded with a small nod, "Happy'll be here with you, and the Compound is so fortified it's ridiculous, so you're safe, kiddo. And the suit's coming with me, so if anything happens-- _anything_ at all--I'll be here faster than you can say 'Star Wars.' Please stay on my floor, okay? No wandering off, or trying to be Spider-Man, kid. Also--"

"Tony!" Pepper interjected, interrupting Mr. Stark's rambling. Her voice was urgent but she didn't look too happy to be telling Mr. Stark to stop talking to Peter, "I'm sorry but we really need to go,"

"Yeah yeah. Just a sec, Pep," he turned back to Peter and cupped the sides of his face tenderly. Peter found himself leaning into Mr. Stark's touch, his eyes drooping at the familiarity of his calloused hands, trying to erase the guilt he felt. He was pulled forward and a gentle kiss was pressed to his hairline, "I'll see you soon, Pete,"

"O-okay, Mr. Stark," he responded sulkily, ashamed at himself for being unable to keep the disappointment--or guilt, he wasn't sure--out of his voice. After all, Mr. Stark had been spending all his time with Peter for two whole weeks. He shouldn't be this distraught at him being gone for barely even a day. To be fair though, it didn't seem like Mr. Stark wanted to be separated from Peter either.

Mr. Stark gripped him harder and buried his nose into Peter's hair before shifting so that his chin rested on his head instead. Peter melted into his mentor, soaking up as much as the man as he could before he left. He drank in the familiar smell of coffee, motor oil, and expensive cologne. He didn't want to forget it. It made him think of May and what she smelled like. He loathed to admit it, but her scent was slipping through his fingers.

Peter could list the smells in his head; Rose perfume, the lingering smell of the city, the neverending aroma of burnt food from her many failed cooking experiments. He remembered those, but he just couldn't remember them all together, he just couldn't remember the smell of _May._ It took the teen a moment to realize that his eyes were watering. Refusing to let Mr. Stark see--the man would never go if Peter started crying--he buried himself deeper into the crook of the man's neck, blinking away the tears.

"It'll be alright, Pete. I'll be here faster than you can say 'Star Wars is the coolest thing in existence' if anything goes wrong," Mr. Stark said softly, patting him on the back before unwrapping himself from the embrace. Peter smiled weakly.

The rest of the departure was painfully quick, like ripping off a band-aid. Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts left in a rush, with hurried last goodbye's and instructions for Happy. Peter didn't think Mr. Stark had been able to fit it all in the thirty seconds his fiance had given him because Happy's phone kept pinging loudly from across the room.

Now that Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts were gone the room was filled to the brim with awkward silence. Neither him or Happy were sure what to say. Should he say something? Was it rude not to? What if Happy didn't want to talk? He probably didn't. Should he just go to his room or would that be rude? If he wanted to sneak out and be Spider-Man then he'd have to do it from his room, but would it be suspicious to go to his room right away?

Happy cleared his throat awkwardly, distracting Peter from his hurried and panicked thoughts.

"Do you-do you want to watch, erm, Star Wars, or the UN meeting, or something?" the bodyguard trailed off, stiffly gesturing to the TV. Okay, today was officially weird. Happy offering to stay with him? Then asking to watch Star Wars? What the hell was actually happening!?

It all caught him so off guard that it took him a good ten seconds to respond.

"Oh, um, I-I'm good, Happy. I was, I was just going to, um, chill in my room,"

That was apparently cause for concern, because Happy suddenly looked worried. His heart skipped a beat, wondering if Happy somehow knew about his plans, despite the fact that Peter hadn't told anyone, hadn't said it out loud or even written it down on paper.

"You don't have to, kid,"

"I-I know, but I just want, un, want to chill by my-myself for a bit,"

That seemed to do the trick, because the Forehead of Security looked less apprehensive, still worried and concerned, but less like he thought Peter was afraid of him.

"Sure, kid. If you feel better in your room then go ahead and chill in there. Just get me if anything's wrong,"

"Yes, sir," he responded, starting down the hallway to his room. He felt Happy's gaze burning against his back the entire way. He tried not to let it show just how uncomfortable it made him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He typed furiously on his computer, pausing for a moment to look over his work. As his eyes roamed over the numbers the teen realized it wouldn't work and deleted it, starting from his previous chain. Hacking into Friday wasn't going to be easy, which Peter knew, after all, he had done it a few times before, but the coding for this particular protocol was ridiculously strong. It must be really important to Mr. Stark.

The superhero's quest to turn off the 'Baby Out of Bed Protocol' had been an ongoing battle of writing, scrutinizing, and rewriting codes for the past two hours. And though he had made a lot of progress, it was getting pretty frustrating. He knew he still had at least another hour of this torture to go. Coding was pretty boring to Peter, despite him being really good at it. He let out an aggravated sigh, falling back onto his bed, which he hadn't moved from since he had gotten into it.

Unspent energy flooded through Peter as he thought about just how little he had moved around that day, as well as the past couple of weeks. Mr. Stark hadn't let him use anything in the training room, and despite the fact he was still recovering from...where he'd been, he still had way too much energy to just be laying around. He blamed weird spider mutations.

Peter went back to hacking Friday with a groan, hunching back over the sleek Stark Computer that had been in his room when Mr. Stark had showed it to him. Along with loads of other StarkTech that he couldn't even begin to use there was so much. Honestly, his room was a bit much. It was filled to the brim with games, posters, tech, and basically anything Mr. Stark thought he would like. The carpet was so soft and plush it felt unreal, his bed too. The room itself had to be bigger than his and May's--

The brunet paused, his fingers ceasing their endless typing as tears welled up in his eyes. Peter sniffled and rubbed at his burning eyes, trying to smother tears and sobs, along with any thought of his Aunt. He plowed on listlessly, busying himself with the device in front of him, hoping that the difficult coding would be enough of a distraction.

A knock at his door interrupted him a few minutes later. He tore his eyes away from the screen to stare at the door, muttering a small "come in" after a moment.

"Hey, kid," Happy greeted, hovering in the doorway, "What're you doing?"

"Oh, um," he stuttered trying to think of something that wouldn't make the man suspicious, "Just watching, um...B-Brooklyn Nine-Nine,"

Happy gave him a blank stare that Peter couldn't blame him for. He was an awful liar, his pausing and stuttering definitely hadn't convinced him, but he did that all the time now, so maybe he wouldn't be _too_ suspicious. Thankfully, Happy seemed to take it in stride, giving him a once over before moving on.

"I brought you some food,"

It was then that Peter noticed the bowl that Happy was holding, a fork resting in the bowl--which smelled like Mac N' Cheese--as well as a glass of juice. Cranberry, he thinks.

"Th-thank you, Happy,"

"It's no problem, kid. It's my job," he responded, walking into the room to deposit the food on Peter's bed, handing him the glass, "Now I don't know if you're actually allowed to eat in bed, but I think you'll be okay,"

Peter smiled a little, taking a bite of his 'Nutritious Mac N' Cheese' that Mr. Stark had gotten for him, thinking that it would be the easiest way to get Peter all the nutrition his body would need to heal properly. And now that Happy had mentioned it, he didn't really know if he was allowed to eat in bed or not. Mr. Stark generally just got some takeout or microwave meals like the Mac N' Cheese for him, and since he usually just followed Mr. Stark around they ate in the kitchen or at the table.

"Makes you the best, um...the best babysitter,"

"I resent that," Happy said, clapping the sides of his legs as though he's bursting with energy, which Peter knows isn't true for Happy, "I'll leave you to watch your show. Just come and get me if you need anything,"

"Ok, Happy,"

With a nod the overprotective teddy bear leaves, gently closing the door behind him. Peter began to eat as he picked up where left off on his coding, finishing in the next forty-five minutes.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

With Friday no longer watching him phase two of his plan could come into play.

It honestly wouldn't be too hard, now that Peter could turn invisible. His main problem was the elevator, which could attract Happy's attention--if he was awake. If he was asleep Peter was home free since the man was such a deep sleeper. He wasn't completely sure if he was asleep though. There wasn't much movement coming from the living room from what he could hear. He could also hear _Downton Abby_ playing down the hall, so it could really go either way.

He stood by his door for however long, his longing debating with his survival instincts, as well as his orders.

Mr. Stark had said _not_ to be Spider-Man, had explicitly told him so, because he knew Peter. Knew that the teen was rebellious(not even his stay at that _place_ could stop his stubbornness), knew that Peter had been waiting for an opportunity to be the red and blue superhero again. But, Peter was so tired. Tired of being caged in, of being unable to make his own decisions, tired of how utterly _useless_ he had been! Crime wouldn't stop because of his health! Bad things would still happen, especially to those who couldn't protect themselves.

But Peter, Peter could protect himself, and others.

_(Can you though? You couldn't protect yourself from Ivanov. You can't protect anybody)_

He shook away the cruel whisper, pretending as though the shudder that ran down his spine was just the cold, despite it being warm in his room. He took a deep breath, resolving himself to his plans. He had hacked Friday already, he was in too deep to just give up. All that work wasn't going to be for nothing.

"Alright, Peter," he muttered to himself, "You got this,"

The teen closed his eyes, his face scrunching up in concentration. It wasn't until he felt the now familiar tingles running up and down his body did he relax, though there was no way to tell by his face. After all, it was hard to read a face you couldn't see.

Sure of his disguise he finally walked out the door, though rather tentatively.

The hallway itself was quiet, the only noise being the distant buzzing of the TV from Happy's rather over-dramatic show. After a moment the motion-activated lights flickered on, which startled him enough for him to let out a yelp. His hands flew to his mouth which had clamped shut as soon as the noise had left his mouth. The teen stayed completely still, his heart threatening to burst from his chest as he listened for any reaction from Happy. When everything remained silent for half a minute he deemed it safe enough to continue on.

_Definitely asleep then._

His suspicions were confirmed when he made it to the common area. The lights were still on, and so was the TV, but Happy had somehow managed to still fall asleep. He looked strange, wearing casual clothes and his jaw slack. Peter only lingered for a few moments though, taking in the sight in front of him before hastily getting on the elevator. He had never been more glad at how quiet the elevator in the Compound was.

The elevator ride was silent, empty of typical elevator music or the usual chatter Peter would hear if he strained his ears. He guessed the compound was mostly empty, considering the time of night and what wing Mr. Stark's personal space was in. All the more helpful for him. It did, however, make the trip more uncomfortable. His ears rang in rhythm with his pounding heart, the sound reverberating off the walls. It was honestly giving him a headache. However, before he could focus on it for too long the doors slid open. Huh, he hadn't even noticed that it'd stopped.

Quickly, he slipped out of the elevator and into the lab, which was only across the hall(thank goodness for private elevators), punching in the security number as quietly as possible. The light flashed green and he entered the spacious room, immediately looking for his suit. He didn't have to look for long.

The familiar red suit sat folded neatly on Mr. Stark's desk, sitting beside a laptop and some discarded project. Peter felt his illusion fall as he picked up the bright red and blue suit but he didn't pay it any mind. Friday wasn't going to tell on him and no one was there to see him. Still, once he had it in his hands he dashed back to the elevator and in what felt like the blink of an eye he was back in his room, changing into his suit.

"Hello, Peter," came Karen's cool voice, "It's good to see you."

"Uh, yeah yeah, it's good to see you too,"

"It seems we are currently in the Avengers Compound, what are we doing tonight?" his AI asked, observant as always.

"Um, just a sta-standard patrol, actually. Nothing big, Karen,"

"We are currently a bit out from your regular route, would you like directions to Queens?"

"Y-Yeah! That'd be great,"

"Planning route,"

And with that he opened the bathroom window and left. Getting back to the city took Peter a while, and he means _a while._ It had always taken forever when he was in the car with Happy, but this actually took forever. By the time he arrived he was out of breath and shaky, no doubt unused to this kind of exertion. 

"We-we've got to find an easier way to get here and back, Karen," he huffed, crouching on the fire escape of an apartment complex.

"Might I suggest an automobile?" she replied.

"What?"

"Perhaps a ride from Mr. Hogan would suffice,"

"O-oh um, I don't think he'd be available to give me a ride,"

"Maybe a bus, then," Karen suggested.

"I'm fine, Karen. I don't need a ride!" He insisted defensively.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I just assumed that is what you meant when you said you wanted an easier route from the Compound and the city. Do you have another idea in mind?"

Peter paused, his cheeks growing redder from embarrassment. He had no reason to be defensive, Karen was just doing what he'd asked.

"Sorry, sorry. Can we just focus on patrol?"

"Of course, Peter," a moment, then, "A mugging is happening two blocks down,"

 

 

The mugging was a pretty standard scene. Random guy with a knife, random guy with something relatively valuable.

He webbed the knife from the man's hand with a small _Thwip!_

"Excuse me, sir! Didn't your mom teach you not to steal!!!"

The job ended up being a quick one, surprised looks on both faces(though he couldn't tell if it was because he had legitimately surprised them or if they were surprised to see Spider-Man after so long), the thief webbed to the wall, the victim uninjured and the NYPD notified. So far so good. Though his one-liners could use some work.

He continued on, stopping numerous petty crimes. His jokes were pretty stale the entire time, but he was out of practice, and no one had gotten hurt so far, so he felt as though he could excuse his awful humor. 

"Y'know, Karen?" he said, now perched on a rooftop after another rather successful saving, "I don't know what Mr. Stark was so worried about. Everything's been fine,"

"Your reaction times have been slower than usual, and there have been multiple close calls, Peter," his AI warned, "Maybe it would be better to return to the Avengers Compound."

"There's always close calls, Karen," he snapped back, bristling defensively, ignoring the pounding in his chest and the ache in his arms, "And it's only been a couple of hours,"

"Of course, Peter," she answered, sounding a bit stiffer than usual. Whatever, he'd apologize later, "According to local Police Scanners, three men have just robbed a bank. They were last spotted on 57th,"

And sure enough, when he got there, there were three men running down the street with duffel bags looking like the guiltiest trio alive. Honestly, could they be any more obvious? It's like they were trying to caught.

Only a few yards behind them Peter threw out a web and yanked the bag out of the nearest man's hand. The man in the back, Thief #1, tripped backwards from the force, letting out a weirdly high pitched yelp.

"Hey! That doesn't belong to you!"

"The hell--" exclaimed Thief #2, while Thief #3, who seemed to be the only one with his brains about him, pulled out a gun.

"I thought you said Spider-Man hadn't been around, Jeremy!" barked Thief #3.

"Oh, shut up, Marvey!!!" Thief #2, er Jeremy, snapped back.

"Ju-just a little vacay, guys! Can't-I can't let you go around robbing banks now, can I?" Spider-Man snarked, all false bravado and damning his stutter.

"Oh whatever, Spider-Man," Snarled Thief #3, rolling his eyes. Well, that was the first time he had gotten a response like that. The guy sounded like an overly moody teenager...he should probably let the guy know that.

"Dude," he said, snorting, "That was _not_ threatening. You sound like a moody teenager!"

And before he could move, or insult the thief some more, a bang echoed through the air, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. It took moments, or maybe hours, for Peter to even realize that anything had happened. When he did, the pain became sharp and pronounced, biting into his skin.

"Well, I hope that was,"

"Shit," he mumbled.

Not even thinking, Peter felt the familiar tingle run up his spine letting him know he was cloaked. He didn't register the gasps of shock from the thieves below, didn't register the pain, just did what he knew how to do.

Fight.

It was laughably easy to take down three armed men when you were invisible. When Peter leapt out of sight all three were webbed to a wall, knocked unconscious.

"Karen," he panted, panicking, "Wha-what do I do??"

"My systems seem to be down, but I would advise calling Mr. Star--"

"--NO!! I-I mean, n-no, Karen. Mr. Stark did-doesn't, um, need to know. Just, wh-what can _I_ do?"

"You need to put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. It seems like the bullet only grazed you but you will still be in need of medical assistance,"

Pressure. He needed to put pressure on the wound. He could do that. Gently, he pressed onto his side, immediately removing his hand and hissing in pain.

"Just listen to my voice, Peter. Follow my instructions," Karen assured, gentle as ever.

"Y-yeah, um, okay okay. Follow, f-follow instruction. I can do that,"

Karen led him through what he had to do, calming him as he yelped in pain every now and again. It only took a few minutes for his wound to be carefully wrapped in extra soft webs that had apparently been designed to dress wounds. When was Mr. Stark not prepared?

"Great job, Peter,"

"Yeah, um, thanks, Karen. Y'know, what, um...how-how about that ride?"

"Of course, Peter," a moment, then, "There is a bus leaving in 6 minutes that will pass by the Compound," a route appeared in blue, highlighting the street to his right, "If you follow this route you should arrive just as it is leaving."

"Thanks, Karen,"

He swung through the streets hastily, his arms feeling like lead, not taking the time as he usually did to do tricks or have fun. This time it was about the _destination_. Fuck the journey.

Karen was right about the bus, down to the exact moment. He landed heavily on the automobile heavily, his arms giving out, making him unable to slow his descent. He let out a low groan, not bothering to move from where he was laying on the bus roof, the suit's eyes flickering in sync with his own as he squinted, trying to blink away a headache.

"You appear to be in pain, Peter. Would you like me to call Mr. Stark?"

"NO, Karen!" he burst out, "Just, just--can you just keep talking?"

His voice was painfully pitiful, and he hated it. _No showing weakness_ , not even to Karen. But he was tired, and he just wanted to listen to someone's voice, even if it was robotic.

"Of course, Peter," a moment, " _Everyone Is A Combo Of Two "Harry Potter" Characters — Which One Are You?_ Are you a total Hermione-Voldemort or a..."

Okay, not what he was expecting, but now he was curious.

Karen droned on, sifting through different quizzes and articles, sometimes having him answer difficult chemistry problems. It was actually pretty relaxing and he barely noticed the minutes passing by. It wasn't until Karen alerted him that he needed to get off or he was going to pass the Compound did he really start moving again. Which was surprising, he had never been able to sit down for more than 10 minutes before...

"Th-thanks, Karen," he said, webbing onto a tree near the Avengers Gate and willing himself invisible. If his coding was doing its job right it wouldn't alert anyone that he was outside the gate, but he didn't know if there were still employees at the compound, and they definitely would.

It took him a bit to find the window to his bathroom(this place was honestly too big, there were too many rooms and too many windows), but once he did he slipped in through the window he had left open, closing it gently behind him. Peter mumbled a quick goodbye to Karen before taking off his suit.

"Mmp!" he yelled, muffled, trying to peel his webs off of where they hadn't completely d so that he could take his suit off completely. He didn't think anyone was nearby but he still spoke quietly, barely a whisper, "Okay, one two THREE!"

He ripped the webs off like they were a band-aid, putting his webshooter back on to redress it since it was still bleeding. Was it supposed to be doing that? He didn't really know, but he'd have to figure it out later. If Happy was still asleep, he wouldn't be for much longer, and Peter would need to act normal. He grabbed his clothes off of the ground and slipped them on, careful not to stretch out too much.

Peter, tired, sweaty, and still bleeding from his side, walked back into his room, ready to collapse on his bed, when--

"Ahem,"

The teen swerved to his right, immediately in a defensive position, ready for anything except for who's there, sitting in a chair in the corner with the lights off.

"Fun night, Peter?" asks Mr. Stark.  



	4. The Argument

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...have little excuse except that school is a nightmare and that I try to have friends every once in a while. Also, I have a couple of other stories I'm trying to work on and I get distracted easily. Thank you so much for all the support and requests for updates!! I'm really glad everyone is enjoying the story, and also, I have to ask. Did someone share this story on something recently? Like, on an Irondad list or something? I've gotten a lot of comments recently, and I'm just curious as to why. Anyway, enjoy the chapter!! <3<3<3

_Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump_

 

Tony tried fruitlessly to still his leg, with little success. His nerves and the absurd amount of coffee he had had, had not been doing him any good as the hours passed by at a snail's pace. It was crazy how slow the seconds passed without Peter, and just how slow they were when he was in a meeting. The billionaire had been at it for hours, testifying, going over laws and the possibilities of pardons. All of it was exhausting and he couldn't wait to go home and hug Peter, the two had become scarily codependent.

A buzz in his pocket caught his attention, but one glance at Pepper told him to ignore it and pay attention. So he did, at least for a bit. His phone buzzed again, and again, until he finally slid it out of his pocket to see what was going on.

 

**Happy**

_Answer the damn phone!!_

 

_Friday doesn't know where he is._

 

_The kid's gone._

 

_Tony you need to come back now._

 

His blood froze and it felt like his heart stopped. Peter, gone. He checked his watch only to see Friday wasn't reporting on it, and that was bad, beyond bad. Tony didn't know _anything_ about the people who had taken Peter, other than the fact that they were Hydra. They could've taken him again, but this time they would be more careful, Tony hadn't been able to find him last time and if they took him then he would never find him, never see him again. Steve wasn't going to be able to figure it out again, to be there for Peter when he couldn't be, God what was he--

"Mr. Stark? Mr. Stark," Tony looked up at the official in front of him, giving him a scathing look, "If you would be so kind to pay attention while we're in session--"

"I need to go," he butt in, standing up abruptly. Pepper and Rhodey somehow gave him the _exact_ same look, questioning and beyond confused and exasperated, but Tony couldn't answer, not here not now, with the world watching him. He tried to convey the situation with his eyes, that Peter was in trouble and that he needed him. and luckily they seemed to get it. Or at least, that the situation was serious.

"I-I'm sorry, you need to go?? You do understand the importance of this--there are UN officials who flew in exactly for this and--"

"It's a family emergency," Pepper said, cutting across the man, "I'm afraid it's just come up, and if it were avoidable we'd be staying. As it is, this requires our immediate attention. We'll have to reschedule,"

God, he was so grateful that she was in his life.

He, Rhodey, and Pepper all walked out of the room, leaving behind a baffled room of officials.

"Tony what is it? You're freaking me out man,"

"Peter's gone,"

Rhodey spluttered, a horrified look on his face, and Pepper stopped in her tracks before picking up the pace again, Tony refusing to stop moving. He couldn't, Peter needed him.

"Gone!? How is he gone!?!?" Pepper exclaimed, "I mean, Friday AND Happy were keeping an eye on him, there's no way someone could've just taken him from his room,"

"I don't know, Pep, but I'm going to figure it out," he answered as they finally made it out of the building. His suit was there waiting for him, him having called it as they were walking, "I'm going to call Happy and start searching,"

"We'll look into it, go find your kid, Tony," Rhodey assured, Pepper agreeing quickly. The suit surrounded him and he felt just a little relief as the screen lit up, feeling more in control of the situation.

"Thanks," he said, shooting off into the sky and heading in the direction of New York, "Fri, what's happening? Where's Peter?"

"I do not know, sir. My last record of him was four hours and seven minutes ago, but I'm beginning to believe that some of that footage is looped. It is also difficult to keep track of him due to his newfound ability to turn invisible," she answered, forgoing a greeting, which he was glad of. _Looped?_

"Play it,"

The footage played in front of him in response. It was just Peter sleeping in his bed, facing the wall, and being weirdly still. Peter was never still, not even when he was asleep. He moved and twitched and just never sat still.

"Friday, zoom in on the kid,"

She did as asked, showing him a close up of the kid. It confirmed his suspicions, the kid wasn't just still, he was tense. He was _pretending_ to be asleep. But, why?

"Call Happy,"

The caller ID flashed on the screen in front of him for barely a few seconds before it was answered.

"Tony! I closed my eyes for only--and when I went to go check on him he wasn't--and Friday doesn't know where he is---" the man rushed, sounding like he had lost ten years off of his life.

"Happy, slow down, we'll talk about it later. When did you last see him? Did anything seem off??"

"He was just in his room, he was sitting on his bed. He said he was watching some show, which, I mean, why would he be watching on his computer instead of his TV?"

On his computer, lying about what he was really doing? Looped footage with Peter being tense and unusually still? Whatever had happened, the kid had known something had been going on. He didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

"Anything else?"

"Not--no, I don't think so,"

"Look around the Compound for clues. Anything you can find, anything at all. I want to know immediately,"

"Yes, boss,"

Tony hung up on him then, trying to put the pieces together, and trying to keep himself together. His stomach was churning and he felt like he was going to throw up, but he pushed it down as best he could. He had to keep it together, just until he found Peter.

"Fri, show me your protocols on the kid,"

"Yes, sir," she answered, flashing them in front of him. They scrolled down his screen, until one caught his attention.

"Show me the 'Baby Out of Bed Protocol,'"

It popped up in front of him as he examined it. This was the protocol that was supposed to keep Peter in the Compound, according to certain circumstances, and today definitely would've kept him there. It had to have been tampered with.

"Show me the coding for the protocol. And keep me updated on how far out we are from New York,"

The coding and a countdown of the minutes until he reached New York appeared on the screen in his helmet. Seven minutes out.

His eyes scoured the ones and zeros, searching for inconsistencies. It all seemed fine, nothing looked--

It had been disabled, completely shut down, over ridden _just_ enough that Peter wouldn't be tracked in the Compound for at least eighteen hours. That wasn't really enough time to take Peter and get far away without highly advanced tech, unless--

The Compound was finally within his sights and he dove down, slowing as he descended. The moment he landed the suit retracted around him and Happy was there to meet him. His forehead was creased in stress and he looked beyond terrified, his face reflecting how Tony felt. Tony didn't greet him, just walked inside and headed to the elevator, Happy following by his side.

"Anything?" Happy asked, his voice tense.

"No, but, I have an idea," he answered, stepping into the elevator. The doors reopened with a pleasant _ding_ , which sounded too cheerful for the situation. He made a mental note to replace it later.

"An idea? Do you think it's the same guys as last time?"

Tony didn't answer, for he had found what he needed.

The Spider-Man suit hadn't moved since Tony had taken it from the Parker Residence on the day he'd discovered May's body, hadn't even been touched. But now, it was gone. There was no denying it, Peter had snuck out, and Tony breathed a sigh of relief.

It only lasted for a second.

"He's gone out as Spider-Man," he said, still staring at the spot where the suit had once been, anger bubbling up and replacing the relief that had once filled his chest, "He's--he _went out as Spider-Man!!"_  

"He went--he-"

Tony stomped out of the room as Happy spluttered in surprise, not sure about where he wanted to go. It didn't matter. He just kept walking, until he somehow found himself in Peter's room, unsure of how he got there. He looked around the room, hoping to---

He didn't know what he was looking for. What he was hoping for. Instead he called Pepper, who answered on the first ring.

"Tony! Do you have anything? Is he okay?" she fired question after question, panicked.

"He's--I don't know, Pepper. He wasn't taken, kidnapped or whatever. He went out as Spider-Man," Pepper didn't respond for a moment, and he wondered if she was breathing a sigh of relief or was just as angry as him. When she did respond, her voice was carefully controlled.

"So where is he now?"

"Probably Queens. He definitely took his tracker out again, so I can't tell for sure,"

"Are you going to call him?"

"No," he breathed through his nose, "I'm going to wait for him at the Compound, repair some of the coding he turned off and stuff. What about you? Are you coming back or...?"

"No, sorry, Tony. I'm going to stay here and try and sort out this mess, though I'm not sure how," she paused, "I'll call Rhodey, let him know Peter's alright. Is there anything you need?"

"I-I'm, I don't need anything. I'll see you later. I love you,"

"Love you, Tony,"

He hung up, and sat down in an arm chair in the corner with a flourish. He loosened the tie around his neck and undid his cuffs, hoping that it would make him feel less trapped. And so he waited, though it was hours before anything happened.

The click of a closing window caught his attention, and was quickly followed by a muffled shout and some muttering that he was unable to decipher. After a couple of more minutes the door finally opened and Peter walked into the room, clearly oblivious to his presence. He was sweaty and his hair was ridiculously curly, he looked tired and he was shaking a little. But none of it mattered, because he had gone out when he hadn't supposed to, after he had told him not to, after Tony had put everything in place to keep Peter _safe._

"Ahem,"

Peter whirled around into a defensive position, his eyes widening in fear and apprehension when he realized who it was. His mouth hung open a little and he took a tentative step back.

"Fun night, Peter?"

His voice was dangerous, and shaking from anger.

"I-Mr. Stark? You--um, you're back early," he stammered, fumbling with his hands.

"Yeah, heard there was a problem here, so I came back to check on you," he responded, his word choice careful, seeing if Peter would admit to sneaking out.

"Pr-problem? There-there wasn't any, um, any problem,"

 _"Really?"_ he said, standing up, "Because I got a text from Happy saying he couldn't find you. That Friday couldn't find you and that you had disappeared. Your suit with you. Which, I--I feel like I told you you couldn't use. I think I remember _specifically_ saying that you couldn't go out as Spider-Man! Didn't I?"

"Yes--yes, sir," Peter whispered, his voice so soft and hesitant that Tony could barely hear him.

"So _why_ did you go out after I told you not too?! I have _rules_ and-and protocols in place, Peter!! They're to keep you safe, NOT for you to turn off or just disobey whenever you feel like it!"

"I know," Peter said, "I understand--"

"Do you?! Do you, Parker? Because you didn't seem to understand today!" Tony stalked towards him, needing to get his point across. His anger, his fear. He didn't even notice how Peter backed away from him, "I had to _walk out of a court_ that was supposed to decide the future of the _Avengers!_ This was _important!!_ DO YOU UNDERSTAND--"

"I UNDERSTAND!!" Peter yelled, flinching hard and backing himself into the wall, shrinking into the corner, "I understand," His voice was a whisper, and he hugged himself tightly.

It was like Tony blinked and suddenly the scene unfolded before him.

Peter was trembling in a corner, eyeing him wearily, with tears threatening to spill. His breaths were short and came in in small gasps, as though he was having a hard time breathing, and he was bouncing between visibility and invisibility--a telltale sign that he was scared.

And then there was Tony himself. He had been yelling, he had been closing in on Peter, cornering him without meaning to. He had scared Peter, he had been _threatening._

Tony backed away immediately, stumbling a little in his haste. He felt sick, and angry, but this time with himself. He had promised that he was going to help Peter, that he was going to make things better for him. Instead, he had made things worse. Peter was still scared, still suffered, and now he was scared of him.

"Oh, God," he choked out, "Peter, I-I--,"

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, taking in deep and heavy breaths until he eventually just sat on the ground, leaning against Peter's bed. Peter was leaning, crouched, against the wall diagonal from him. They sat in silence for probably fifteen minutes, the only sound that of their breathing and Peter's sniffling. Fifteen minutes before either of them said anything, before Tony said anything.

"I'm sorry, kiddo," he swallowed, hanging his head, "This-I shouldn't have--I shouldn't have yelled. I should've listened, I should've--"

There was a movement beside him as Peter moved from the wall to lean against the bed, though he still left plenty of space between them. It took all of Tony's willpower not to react, not wanting to spook the kid. After a moment, he finally dared to look at the kid, shame filling up his eyes.

Peter had stopped shaking, and he was no longer turning invisible, but he still looked impossibly tired. The kid hugged himself and sighed, tilting his head backwards and closing his eyes, resigned.

"You didn't--you didn't really do any-anything wrong. Before...before everything, I would've been fine. I wouldn't--wouldn't have blown up like that," Peter admitted, his voice steadier than before.

"But this is _after_ everything, Pete, and I shouldn't have yelled regardless. I made you feel scared and unsafe, and I'm beyond sorry. I was just _scared,_ so scared that I could've lost you," he sighed. Peter didn't say anything for a few minutes, so neither did he, letting the kid lead the conversation.

He didn't expect where it was going to go.

"It-it was cold. _So cold_ in the Hydra base, and dark too, without any light at all. In my cell, anyway. I was only ever in three other rooms beside my own, and they were _bright_ , but somehow never in a good way," he paused, probably waiting to see if Tony would say something, but he stayed silent. So, Peter carried on, "There were other--other people, mutants or whatever, at the base. We-we were forced to fight a lot...I--one of the rooms was some kind of like, an observation room or something, and they'd watch us fight in there. I don't know how many people were there, but I only ever fought two. Other than that all I saw were guards or, I guess scientists,"

"Scientists?"

"Y-yeah," Peter stammered, his breaths quickening, "They were the worst,"

Peter was silent for a few seconds, and Tony could tell he was quickly losing it, that it was all too much.

"Hey, hey hey. It's alright, Pete," he assured the teen, who looked at him through teary eyes, unsure if he should put a hand on the kid's shoulder, "You're doing so great, kid, I'm so proud. It's okay if it's too much all at once, okay?"

"N-no, Mr. Stark," he shook his head, "I just...I've been wanting to tell you for a while now, it-it just, it just get _stuck._ I-I need to, need to--"

"Okay, Pete, okay," Tony responded, hesitating a moment before, "Can I touch you?"

The kid was silent for a moment, and Tony thought he was going to say no, but then he nodded his head. So the man scooted closer and put an arm around the kid, letting him lean on him. Once Peter had shifted around and made himself comfortable he began again, words tripping over one another, rushing out like a broken dam. And with each word more dread, more fear, more anger seemed to fill him up, like he was some kind of emotional balloon that would eventually pop.

Peter had been experimented on, he'd been forced to fight, he'd been beat and electrocuted, he'd had a _collar._ A _fucking collar._ And then there was some machine that Peter could barely talk about before dissolving into tears, because it had apparently been too awful, the memories still too fresh. Tony could barely stand it, and part of him wished that he never had to have known, to have gone on unaware of the nightmare that Peter had had to live through. He needed to track down the son of a bitch that had hurt Peter like this, that had been so disgusting and vile that he would dare hurt his kid like that.

But all he could do was be in the moment and hug Peter tighter, who was now full on crying, though rather silently, only letting out sniffles here and there.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't--didn't tell you, Mr. Stark,"

"No, no sorry's, kid," he responded, "None of this is your fault whatsoever. We'll discuss the sneaking out later, but, I understand why you felt the need to leave the Compound,"

"You're not mad?"

"Pete," he sighed, "I was terrified. I thought that someone had taken you while I'd been gone, I thought I'd lost you again. So when I was yelling it was just--all of that fear ended up being directed at you, and it shouldn't have been. That's-it's not an excuse, I was in the wrong there, but I just want you to know that I wasn't mad,"

"At all?" Peter asked, sounding skeptical.

"Okay, maybe a little, but I'm a _cool_ dad, I don't stay mad for long,"

 _Shit._  

Tony regretted his words before they even left his mouth. He stiffened as Peter froze, cursing himself internally. He'd been over this! He wasn't Peter's _dad!_ He wasn't even close! He'd just yelled at the kid, he could barely protect him, and he was doing an awful job helping him. Besides, Peter definitely didn't see him that way, there was just no way that he was father material and--

"D-dad?" Peter stuttered out, his voice so unbelievably soft that Tony barely heard him.

"Uh...shit. I-I'm sorry, Pete, it just kinda slipped out, and--you-you don't have to feel the same way, kid,"

Peter didn't respond, he didn't even move, he just stayed still and stiff. After a few minutes the silence finally got him.

"Kid?" He pulled Peter away from him to get a better look, confused to see that his eyes were closed, at least, that was until he saw the growing red spot on the kid's side.

_"Peter!!?"_


	5. The Stitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long, and it's a little short, but ayyyyy corona

Peter wasn't responding, and Tony was having a hard time breathing. Breathing. Was Peter breathing?

Gasping, he put his hand under Peter's nose, taking in a deep breath when he felt the air going in and out. He then checked his heartbeat, which was there, though it was a weak.

Without another thought he picked Peter up in his arms and dashed out of the room and into the Medbay as fast as he could. He laid Peter out on a bed, still panicking, and looked around frantically. Cho wasn't there, she was in South Korea at the moment, and she wouldn't be able to get to the Compound quick enough, even if he called her right then.

Tony lifted Peter's shirt to look at the wound, dismayed to see it was covered in webs. Peter was the only one strong enough to tear those off without the help of the dissolvent.

"Webs. Dissolvent. I need the dissolvent," he said aloud, tearing out of the room. He reached the lab in record time, grabbing the bottle off of Peter's workstation and racing back to Peter. When he got back he was relieved to see that nothing had changed, that Peter was still laying there. His face was white as a sheet as he dripped the fluid onto the webs, sighing in relief as the webs disappeared.

The wound was red and angry, blood seeping out sluggishly, though speeding up as the webs dissolved rapidly. A small chuck of his skin seemed to be missing, a tear spreading from it, reaching towards his stomach. He noticed dimly just how many scars he had, all precise and orderly. God, this day just kept getting worse.

"Friday?"

"He needs stitches, sir. There are clean tools in the station behind you," she responded, her voice full of worry.

"Stitches. Okay, I can do that, I can do stitches."

He grabbed what he needed, his hands rummaging through the drawers and swearing the whole time, and raced back to Peter. He still hadn't moved, and Tony had to force himself to breathe.

"Please don't wake up kid. You know we don't have pain meds for you," he pleaded, running a hand through the boy's sweaty hair. Peter, of course, didn't respond. So, taking a deep breath, he started.

It was all good for a few minutes, but luck had never been on his side.

Peter's eyes fluttered open, but Tony didn't even notice, too focused on the gash.  He looked up sharply at the kid's pained mumbling, flinching when he saw those big brown eyes swimming with pain.

"Stop. Please stop," Peter begged, his voice tiny and choked with tears, "Please. I won't sneak out again, I promise. I promise."

Tony flinched.

"Shh, it's okay. It's okay, baby," he tried to assure the crying boy, putting a gentle hand on his cheek, hoping he didn't notice the blood that covered it, "They're just stitches. You'll get sick without them."

"No, no please, sir. I'm sorry," he sobbed, trying to push Tony away with weak arms, which only made him worry more. He was usually so strong.

"Don't be sorry, kid. I'm not punishing you, I promise," he tried again, "C'mon, use that big brain of yours. Stitches are helpful, they help you heal, remember?"

Peter nodded, leaning into his hand.

"Not...not a punishment?"

"No. But I need you to be brave, okay? We don't have any pain meds for you, and I have to finish the stitches," he hesitated, looking around, "Grab the bars on the bed, Pete. It doesn't matter if you break them, okay?"

Peter nodded, and Tony removed his hand to continue the stitches. He talked Peter through it the whole time, pausing the reassure him whenever he flinched, or to stop him from shaking. All in all, it took almost ten full minutes to finish, which was way too long to him.

"Is it over?" Peter asked, his eyes screwed tight.

"Yeah, buddy, your stitches are in," he told him, rubbing a thumb on his cheek, "I'm going to clean and wrap it now, okay?"

He nodded.

It was definitely the easiest part, and definitely the least painful on Peter.

"Does he need an IV, Fri?" he asked.

"It would be advisable, Mr. Stark," she responded, "You should also hook him up to a heart monitor."

Tony grabbed the heart monitor first, picking up the wires to put them on Peter's chest, but pausing when he flinched away.

"It's okay, kid. These won't hurt," Tony said, but Peter still looked at the monitor warily, and it hit him all at once. Peter had been experimented on for weeks. This was basically a repeat of the nightmare he had lived through, though helpful to him, and he hoped less painful, "How about you help me?"

"What?" Peter whispered, looking up at him tiredly.

"Help me with the wires," he repeated, and he could tell Peter liked that idea better, liked being in control of the situation better. Together they placed the wires on his chest. Next came the IV.

This one he had to do himself. He put it in carefully, short and sweet.

"I'm so proud, kid. You can sleep now if you want," he told Peter, getting up. He was stopped in his tracks by Peter's hand catching his.

"Don't go," he whispered, "Please."

How could he say no to his kid?

"Of course, bud. I won't go anywhere."

He pulled up a chair and sat down, taking Peter's hand and smoothing his thumb over it gently. They sat in silence until Peter fell asleep, which only took a few minutes. Though, he shouldn't be surprised. He'd overexerted himself, and had lost a good amount of blood. Did he need a blood transfusion? No. No, his heartbeat was fine, he was breathing fine, he was fine.

"God, kid. I'm too old to scare like that. Give your dad a bre--"

There it was again. Twice in one night.

Tony dropped Peter's hand, sighing. This wasn't his place, wasn't his role. Peter had woken up and his first instinct had been that he was hurting him. What the hell kind of father did that make him?

"I wish May were here...I bet you do too, kid. She was definitely a lot better at this than I was, and I'm sorry that I'm not her--or that I'm not even more  _like_ her," he paused, sighing, "I know I'm--I know that I'm not your dad, but--"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have an incoming call from Mr. Rogers," Friday interrupted, breaking up his blubbering confession.

Steve. He must have seen the news. Yeah, that probably didn't look good, nor was it very helpful to the Avengers.

"Patch him through," he ordered, running a hand through his hair. There was a click and some static (he needed to get them some better tech to talk to him with), before the patriotic voice broke through.

"Tony?"

"That's my name," he responded, putting on his signature Press Voice. He was really too tired for this, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We were watching the hearing...I just wanted to check if everything was alright, and what was going on?"

"Just...um, there was a situation with Peter. He's alright, just ended up having a freak out with his powers," he lied, trying to come up with something quick. Spider-Man wasn't his secret to keep, and it was kind of true.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Steve commented, and he did sound sorry. Worried, even, "How's he been?"

"He's been better, but we're getting somewhere. His powers are definitely more under control, so that's good," Rogers was silent for a moment, but Tony didn't really care why.

"Okay, Tony. When do you think we'll be able to come home?"

Home. If that was what Rogers considered the mess that had been the Avengers. But, he had to admit, it had felt more like home than he had felt in years.

"I...I don't have the answer to that at the moment. Pepper's rescheduling everything, and if I know that woman, I'm sure it'll be set soon."

"Alright, then. It was good talking to you, tell Peter the team says hi."

"Will do, Cap-i-tan," with a wave of his hand the call was cut off, and Tony was left with his silence and the startlingly reassuring sound of the heart monitor.

Tony didn't try and resume his 'conversation' with Peter. The kid wasn't even awake, and even if he was, he still didn't know what to say, what to think. Instead, he watched him as he slept, grateful that he at least didn't seem to be having a nightmare. It wasn't long before he got another call.

"Sir, I have a call from Secretary Ross," Friday informed him, making him groan loudly.

"Video?" he asked, hoping that it wasn't.

"Yes, sir."

"Give me a moment," Tony answered. He left the room, making sure to ruffle Peter's hair as he did. He started towards an empty conference room, cursing that they were in a completely different section of the building, "Go ahead and set it up in Room F6, let him know I'll be there in a moment."

"Stark," greeted Ross in that _cheery_ way of his when he walked through the door.

"Hello to you too, Ross."

"You'd better have a good excuse for leaving in the middle of a meeting with the UN."

"It wasn't to meet with any of the Avengers, if that's what you're thinking," he snarked, and he could see the frustration in Ross' eyes, "It was a personal issue."

"What, like that intern that went missing a month ago?"

Tony stilled.

It hadn't been a completely private matter. The police had been involved, and it had been public that someone from his company had gone missing in the hope that they might gain some leads. He'd even put Peter on record, creating documents that proved he'd worked at Stark Industries. But mentioning Peter felt personal, like an attack.

"We found him a couple of weeks ago," he said through grit teeth, his eyes narrowed in barely guarded fury.

"And you what? Checked in on him?" Ross said almost mockingly, the corners of his lips tugging up subtly. Tony clenched his jaw, wondering if this was a good idea.

"He's staying with me," he answered simply. Ross blinked in surprise, the smile he'd had disappearing.

"He's staying with you?" he echoed scathingly.

"Yes. He's a minor and too smart for this company to just let go."

"And this was why you had to leave a UN? What was so important that you had to take the Iron Man armor from Washington to New York?" the Secretary of State asked scathingly, clearly unimpressed with his excuse, even if it was kinda true. The best lies were based on truth.

"I'm afraid that because he is a minor I will not disclose his personal information with you, but we should be good for a reschedule soon."

Ross sniffed, looking like a dog without a bone, or rather a trashy politician without an excuse.

"See to it that you don't leave next time," and with that he hung up.

Tony put his head in his hands, sighing heatedly through his nose. God, everything was a mess, beyond a mess really.

He just sat there for a few minutes, alone in the ghostly empty conference room. He didn't know what he was going to do. Peter needed help, the Avengers needed to be rebuilt, and he needed to keep Ross away from everything. It was bad enough he knew about Peter at all, but knowing that the kid was living with him? That would come back to bite him.

There was no doubt that Ross had noticed Spider-Man's absence, and he'd eventually know that he'd reappeared tonight.

"Sir, Peter is beginning to wake up," Friday alerted him. He immediately got up and left the room, rushing back to Peter. He'd have to table his worries for later.

He found Peter staring absently at the ceiling, and he didn't even move when Tony sat down next to him. His face was still covered in sweat and dried tears from earlier.

"Hey, buddy," he greeted. Peter finally turned to look at him, "You doing alright?"

That was a stupid question.

Peter shrugged, making Tony think he was still kind of out of it. His healing probably wasn't helping things.

"Yeah, I'm sorry we don't have any meds for you, kid. But, I'm proud of you," Tony said, hoping that he sounded comforting. Peter still didn't say anything, and he didn't know what to do, so he just kept talking, "Cap called, he says 'hi,' and so does the rest of the team."

That got the teen's attention. He turned his head to look at him, his eyes wide.

"Really?" Peter asked, his voice louder than Tony thought it would be, which he was glad of. He sounded stronger, which was kind of surprising.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "You should've heard him, I think he was crying."

Peter scrunched his nose and gave him an irritated look, which just made him smile.

"No he didn't," Peter protested, and Tony just stuck his tongue out at him playfully.

They ended up watching TV until Peter managed to fall asleep again. Tony was glad they didn't talk about the dad thing, hopefully Peter just didn't hear him. But overall, it was progress, and as he looked over Peter's sleeping face, he felt that things were going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know how long this is going to be, but I seriously doubt it'll actually be as long as the last, or interesting. There isn't much of a plot other than just Peter moving on and Irondad fluff/angst, so I mean...if anyone has ideas on where they think this story could go I would love to hear them. I don't want to abandon this story, not yet anyway, I just want to wrap things up while keeping it interesting. Anyway, love to hear feedback in the comments! Hope you enjoyed!


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